


The Spoils of Victory

by orphan_account



Series: Amazon Women in the Mood [1]
Category: Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Amazons - Freeform, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 21:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11170776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A little snapshot of life on Themiscyra right after the first war with Ares.





	The Spoils of Victory

“You are turning bronze.”

Antiope stretched in the sunlight, smiled, and refused to open her eyes.  It would take an age to shake off the weariness of a war in which gods and men both fell in equal measure.  The glow of victory had long since faded, and several generations of men would be born and die outside the confines of Themiscyra before she would be ready to dress as a warrior again and begin training her women once more.

“Am I?” she responded disinterestedly.  She did not care.  She would lay exactly here, with her best friend lying in exactly that spot beside her, underneath the ancient, windblown fig tree.  “I am trying to catch up with you,” she deadpanned.

Niobe, eyes also closed, nudged her with her elbow.  “I hope you do not have your hopes too set upon that goal.”

Antiope chuckled.  “Has it not always been so?  Do you think I have trained in the sun relentlessly all these years because it pleases me?  No.”

“No?”

“No.”  She opened her eyes, and rolled over in the grass to rest her head on Niobe’s bare chest.  “It is because I envy you the bronze of your skin.”  Her fingers traced over the muscular round of Niobe’s shoulder.  “It is magnificent.”

Niobe snorted, and circled her thick arm around Antiope’s waist.  She kissed the top of Antiope’s white-blond head.  They were young, in immortal terms, and had millennia spread before them at their feet.  What they would do with the time remained to be seen, but Antiope had designs upon greatness, and Niobe knew it.  “Your hands miss your sword.”

Antiope sighed.  “A little. 

“Will we train again soon?”

“We will.”

Antiope soaked in paradise for a moment more; the gentle drift of its clouds, the balmy kiss of its breezes, the smell of the figs and the olives and the lemons that grew from the trees in the grove.  The whisper of the sea, the gurgle of the streams, the in and the out of Niobe’s breath, the immaculate curve of her lips, the bronze of her skin, and the songs that drifted, soft and distant, from the courtyard of Hippolyta’s regal villa.  

“But first, Niobe, let me enjoy just a little longer the spoils of victory.”


End file.
